


Catching Hold and Letting Go

by cosmic_llin



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, K9 & Company, Sarah Jane Smith (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Angst, Between Seasons/Series, Developing Relationship, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-04
Updated: 2010-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:16:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/pseuds/cosmic_llin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juno knows that it's hard to keep hold of Sarah Jane for very long, but she keeps trying anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catching Hold and Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kowarth](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kowarth).



> Written in the 2010 DW_Femslash ficathon, for Kowarth.
> 
> This is set between Dreamland and School Reunion, and there are a few spoilers for the audios but it doesn't give too much away, I hope!

Juno got letters from Sarah Jane, now and again. More, these days, and with more predictable postmarks. These days she could put Sarah Jane’s name on the envelope when she wrote back, and not some ridiculous pseudonym that she’d have forgotten within a week.

The letters were longer, too, and filled with colour and detail. Juno realised for the first time just how well Sarah Jane could write – gone were the days of hurried notes, dashed off on scraps of paper.

_Juno – don’t write to the old address. Trouble again. Will explain soon. _

_Juno – if anyone comes asking about me, you haven’t seen or heard from me since Lavinia’s funeral. Sorry to put you on the spot. _

_Juno – Sit tight. Reports of my death greatly exaggerated, etc._

She had grown to dread Sarah’s hurried scrawl on an envelope, wishing instead for her voice on the telephone, usually if not always a better sign. When she called, Sarah sometimes had time to talk, sometimes she even laughed.

‘We all miss you here, Sarah, darling,’ Juno would say, not needing to add that it was she who missed her most of all.

It was much better, now, though. Sarah’s letters came in neat envelopes and on matching paper that looked like it came from a proper shop and not the bottom of someone else’s office drawer, and they were addressed in a firm, leisurely hand. They were chatty, full of gossip and news, and most of all, full of Natalie.

Oh, Juno got the feeling that Sarah’s life still wasn’t particularly safe or stable, but at least she wasn’t all alone. That was what worried Juno. Sarah had always been independent, but she needed somebody to keep her feet on the ground. Juno had tried to be that person, and had even succeeded sometimes over the years, but since Lavinia had died it had been hard to catch hold of Sarah for more than a few moments before she drifted away again.

Sarah wrote about how Nat had helped her to find a new place, how Nat was the only one from Planet Three who had seemed to care when everything went so horribly wrong, how she had stuck with Sarah even when it was dangerous. They went to the pub together and Sarah sat in a booth so that nobody could sit behind her, but after a while she forgot to be paranoid. Nat tried to show her how to use the internet, without much success. They played cards in cafes while they spied on people. 

Occasionally the letters were anguished, conflicted – they had fought, Natalie had gone away. But she always came back again. Juno's heart gave a bittersweet little leap every time one of the letters arrived. At least someone was with Sarah.

* * *

It was two weeks after the flight of the Dauntless. Juno had spent the week pacing, anxious, on the phone to the British Embassy and all sorts of people, trying to get word of Sarah. All that she had managed to hear was that she was alive. The news was full of the story, but it couldn’t tell her what she needed to know.

She was on hold to a public relations person at NASA when the doorbell rang. She walked with the phone, muttering to herself about door-to-door salesmen – and there was Sarah.

She dropped the phone, drawing Sarah into her arms, holding her tightly.

‘She never wants to see me again,’ Sarah said, her voice muffled against Juno’s shoulder. She let out a huge, shuddering sigh. It sounded as though she’d been holding it in for a week.

Several cups of tea and much gentle coaxing could not convince Sarah to reveal what had happened between her and Natalie. But the important thing was that Sarah had begun to look not quite so deathly pale and breakable. They spent the evening sitting, talking occasionally.

'I'll make the bed up for you in the spare room,' Juno said, eventually.

'Oh... thank you,' said Sarah.

She followed Juno and helped with the bedding, unfolding and tucking and doing the corners mechanically.

'You know where everything is,' said Juno.

Sarah nodded. 'I'll be fine.'

Juno wondered, as she went to her own bed, whether that was true.

* * *

'You can stay as long as you like, you know,' Juno mentioned, a week later, as they walked down to the market garden to see how it was getting on.

Sarah didn't say anything for a moment. She watched the man who was going up and down with a lawnmower, some distance away.

'I'd hate to impose,' she said eventually, without much conviction.

'Nonsense,' Juno said, briskly. 'You know how bored I get by myself, and you've always been welcome. Stay months, stay a year, if you want to. Stay two. I'll be happy to have you for as long as you're happy to be here.'

Sarah reached over and squeezed her hand, with a ghost of a smile.

'It looks like they're doing a good job with the place,' she said, motioning at the house. 'Lavinia always meant to sort out the roof.'

'They're a nice couple,' Juno said. 'I'm sure you'd like them.'

A week later, Juno noticed that Sarah had redirected the post from her London flat. It arrived promptly every day, waking her suddenly. Juno didn't usually get post, unless it was one of the occasional letters from Sarah. Now it was mostly junk mail and journalism stuff. It gave her a warm feeling to pick it up, sort through it and put it on the occasional table in the hall for Sarah to find. Perhaps she really would stay.

* * *

A month went by. They walked into the village together and people nodded and smiled at Sarah now instead of looking at her, shocked, not knowing what to say. The Dauntless was mostly out of the news now and so they got the papers again, turned on the television in the evenings.

They fell into a routine. Sarah slept late, and stayed up late, and she did the washing up sometimes and helped out in the garden and rarely went out alone. She jumped at small noises, foxes in the night, floorboards creaking. Juno wondered what could have frightened the un-frighten-able Sarah, but she didn't ask.

* * *

Three months after the Dauntless, and Juno came downstairs one morning to find Sarah already up, dressed and making pancakes.

'I'm doing a bit of work for the local paper,' she informed Juno, cheerfully.

'Aren't you slumming it a bit, a proper journalist like you?' Juno teased.

'Well,' said Sarah, 'it'll get me back into the swing of things. We'll see. Pancake?'

Juno sat down and Sarah brought her breakfast over.

'Nervous?' Juno asked.

Sarah sat down opposite her at the kitchen table. 'A bit, I suppose. It's been a while since I did any real work.'

Juno grinned. 'You'll be fine, I'm sure,' she said.

Sarah was fine, of course. When she came home, exhilarated and a little amused at herself for being so, Juno had brought her a bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine.

'To celebrate your first steps back into the world of journalism,' she said.

She poured two glasses, and a while later they opened another bottle. They sat on the sofa and drank and talked about everything and anything - Sarah told Juno about stories she had worked on, Juno shared gossip from the village, and a few stories about Lavinia that Sarah hadn't heard.

It was a cold evening, but the fire was cosy, and the wine made Juno pleasantly tipsy and comfortable. They curled up on the cushions, facing one another, and they grabbed one another's hands to relate particularly exciting stories, leaned casually over one another to refill their glasses. Juno thought it was the first time she'd seen Sarah look truly happy since before Lavinia died. They laughed, they giggled like schoolgirls, it got late, they didn't notice.

There was a moment when Juno might have kissed her, and perhaps Sarah would even have kissed back. But the moment passed, and they went to their separate beds. Juno lay awake, still glowing from the wine and the fire.

* * *

Six months after the Dauntless, Sarah and Juno ran hand-in-hand down the dark night streets of the village, pursued by a great, clanking automaton of uncertain origin. Juno held on tightly. As long as she could keep hold of Sarah, things would be all right.

After they had tricked it into falling in a ditch and Sarah had whacked it with a hammer until it stopped moving, and then made a few mysterious phone calls, they returned home. Sarah put the kettle on.

'You're not quite normal, are you, Sarah Jane?' Juno asked, sitting down heavily at the kitchen table.

'Not in the slightest,' Sarah replied cheerfully.

And she told Juno everything. Or at least, she told her an awful lot.

Juno couldn't help it. She kissed her.

The spare bedroom was empty that night.

* * *

Six months after that, Sarah held Juno's hand as they walked into the village together to pick up the local paper. Sarah had another story in it.

'People will talk, you know,' said Juno.

'Let them,' said Sarah.

* * *

Another six months after that, Sarah returned from a trip to London, full of excitement about a story she had sold.

'Oh, Juno!' she said, hurrying through the door and pulling Juno into a kiss before she had even taken her coat off. 'I can't believe I ever gave it up!'

She didn't seem even to notice how late it was, that she had come home - walked all the way from the station - alone, in the dark. Juno noticed, and smiled.

* * *

Sarah thought she was keeping it a secret, but Juno was observant. She found the property pages, and there was a house in London, a big, beautiful house on a corner, and it was circled.

That evening, she wondered how to broach the subject. They sat together on the sofa, Sarah's arm absent-midledly around Juno as she watched the news for a story that she had broken.

'I'll miss you, when you go,' said Juno, suddenly.

'Go?' said Sarah, thrown.

'It's all right,' Juno said, 'I knew you wouldn't stay forever.'

Sarah turned, looked at her seriously, took her hands.

'Come with me,' she said. 'The house is big enough for two. I went to see it. It's perfect.'

Juno shook her head. 'It's perfect for you,' she said, 'not perfect for me. I've been in this village for too long. Besides, I'd cramp your style.'

'Never,' said Sarah, and kissed her, and for a moment or two they forgot everything.

* * *

Juno knew that Sarah didn't like goodbyes, and so they kept it brief. The taxi driver outside beeped, and there was an embrace, and a promise to write as often as she could, and then Sarah was gone. She never stayed in one place for very long. You could keep hold of her for a while, though. And you never knew when she might come back.


End file.
